Learning Reliance
by Fang323
Summary: Arthur is sick of not being able to do anything, and he certainly doesn't need Alfred's help. An epilogue to "Unspoken Promises".
1. Homeward Bound

Hey there, Fang here.

As promised, here is chapter 1 of the epilogue to "Unspoken Promises". This fic can be read on its own, but I would appreciate it if you haven't read the previous one, to read that one first. Well, enjoy this!

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><p>"And for the love of all that's holy-"<p>

Alfred shook his head as he walked through the hospital corridors in dismay, but his entertained smile broke though to what he really though. Though he knew the path to Arthur's room by heart (Ever since the first night, all those months ago.) anyone could probably figure it out just from the heated cursing from inside the room.

"-you if you do not stop touching me!"  
>Alfred cracked open the door, and did almost laugh at the scene playing in the hospital room.<p>

Arthur was leaning against the headboard of his bed, while a nurse was trying to coax him into the waiting wheeled contraption next to the bed. A doctor was kneeling in front of him, checking the bandages on his legs where the southern ports had been bombed, and even going so far as to request rewrapping them, much to Arthur's chagrin. Alfred stood leaning against the door frame, wanting to burst his gut with laughter.

The somewhat –inexperienced-in-the-ways-of-Arthur-Kirkland doctor was reaching to take off the somewhat strange article of clothing that Arthur wore on his torso, which happened to be a brown leather bomber jacket that looked a few sizes too large. Arthur's eyes went wide, and he twisted away from the doctor's hands even as the man was nervously explaining he just wanted to check the healing process of the burn. The turning movement of Arthur's was not the smartest idea, for as soon as it happened, Arthur was panting, his right and hovering over the left side of his chest.

The already nervous doctor instantly sprang to his feet in surprise, while the woman just calmly turned Arthur until he was lying straight again. The grimace of pain was still there, but his breathing had evened out.

Alfred finally decided it was time to intervene. He walked over into the middle of the somewhat chaotic scene, tapping the young doctor on the shoulder and watching him jump out of his skin.

"Dude, there is a time when you just gotta leave Artie alone…" he smiled good-naturedly. The doctor visibly began to calm down, though his little twitch continued to persist. Arthur, hearing his little brother's voice, cracked his eyes open and struggled to sit up on his own. The nurse at his side rushed to his aid as he started falling again, as did Alfred. Minor cursing spilled from Arthur's lips, and both Alfred and the nurse rolled their eyes.

Hey, I think I'll have better luck with him…" Alfred murmured to her. She nodded gratefully, and left the room along with the confused doctor.

Once the two were gone, Arthur shrugged Alfred off and moved to try and get into the wheelchair himself, albeit reluctantly. But, seeing as he only had one working limb, Alfred eventually took the initiative and lifted the Brit easily into it. Arthur glared at him.

"Well, I can't say it's good to see you again…"

"Hello back, bro! Ready to go home?"

"You wouldn't bloody believe it." Arthur sighed. He shrugged off Alfred's offer to zip his jacket and tried to do it with just his good arm, failing miserably. Even so, when Alfred offered again, it was the same answer, and Arthur just left the jacket open. Alfred rolled his eyes, and pushed his brother out of the hospital room.

"You wanna take one last look at your temporary home?"

"No."

"Aw, but you might not see this place ever again!"

"And good riddance to it." Arthur's eyes were locked straight ahead. "That room wasn't a home, it was a f*ucking h*ell -hole. I intend to forget about everything that happened in that room, so no, I don't want to 'take one last look.'"

Alfred, without a word and face fallen, shut the door to the room promptly, and drove Arthur out to the waiting room. The nurse who was in the room before was behind the desk, and when she saw the two brothers, she flagged them down and handed Alfred a parcel.

"Mr. Jones, I presume you'll be acting as caretaker for Sir Kirkland?"

"Yeah, I got permission from my prez, so totally nothing to worry about!"

The nurse smiled at Alfred's exuberance, and pointed at the package in Alfred's hands.

"In there you will find his pain killers; at the most, he can take one every six hours. You will also find his sedatives, in care the nightmares get too-"

"Wait, Nightmares? What the #!*% type of nightmares-"

"I don't like being talked about like I'm not there!" Arthur finally cut in. Alfred patted Iggy's shoulder in apology.

"Thanks, lady. Iggy here'll be in no trouble with the hero around!"

Arthur scowled, and motioned for Alfred to turn him towards the woman.

"Ah…well…I know I can be a bit…well, stubborn…so…thank you kindly- for putting up with me…"

The nurse leaned down and hugger her country the best she could without disrupting the finally healing injuries. Arthur's eyes widened at the unexpected show of affection from her, and while his face turned pink, he awkwardly tried to return it with his good arm.

The nurse stood up once again, a gentle smile on her face.

"No sir. It's us who should be thanking you…you endured all that for us. There is no way we could ever repay you."

The lady, who had had such a strong and uptight attitude only a moment before, had mist clouding her eyes as her mouth smiled her gratitude. Arthur just stared, and then closed one of his eyes and rubbed the back of his freshly cut, if still incurably messy, hair.

"Well, er…I guess we should be leaving now…" Arthur managed out clumsily before turning his head away to try and cover his embarrassed face. Alfred, with a wide grin to her, obligingly steered him out of the building and, for the first time in four months, out into the open air.

Arthur took a deep breath, almost as if the outside could vitalize him somehow. The sun was already up, and cast a golden glow on everything, including Arthur's pale face, making him look more alive than he had been just seconds before. Arthur looked stunned; did he never expect to see beyond the four hospital walls, Alfred wondered?

On their way back to Arthur's house, Alfred took a left turn, making sure that they drove around London instead of through it. Right no would not be a good time to sight-see in the capital city, and Arthur knew that better than anyone. Even so, he continually stared at the ruined city as they were driving, his face masking any sort of physical or mental pain. The only sign of his past anguish that he might have been feeling was conveyed only by his hand hovering about his heart. Alfred reached over and laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder in deepest sympathy. Without any comment, Arthur turned to face the front, eyes staring straight ahead, emotionless.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Ah, more brotherly concern...I'm never gonna get over that...and the whole thing about Iggy's legs not in the best of health is somewhat historically correct. After the bombings of London stopped for the most part, Germany turned its attention to the ports, namely, the southern ones. You can figure out where Iggy was hurting during those...

Yeah, I know it's somewhat short, but it was the best place to stop it...I don't expect this fic to be more than 3 chapters long.

I will write a fic in which I don't torture Iggy, I swear! It's just so easy...

Hope you liked the story (so far) and review, or Iggy won't have any tea...

-Fang


	2. Adapting Is Not So Easy

Hey there, Fang here.

I actually worked on a ficlet in which Iggy doesn't get hurt, like i promised...not like I don't embarrass him to no end, but hey. A little torture is good for the soul.

Anyway, hope you like the next installment.

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><p>The first week back was, at the least to say, difficult. Arthur had a hard time doing anything for himself (which he adamantly refused to admit) and so Alfred became more of his crutch than anything. It's a little hard to move in a wheelchair with only one arm, as Arthur unfortunately found out by moving in a circle for a good two minutes.<p>

Alfred was more patient than he had ever been in his whole life. He actually pain attention to what painkiller he gave Arthur, along with actually trying to learn to cook for his brother (A bit unsuccessfully, considering his tastes were just as bad as Arthur). As much as he had complained earlier about Arthur having tendencies to be a mother hen, Alfred found himself hovering more than was necessary, slightly annoying his brother. Not that Arthur would say anything though; he really wasn't in any position to do so.

It was the fourth night back, and Arthur was sitting at his table reading about the war progression when Alfred came in bearing two plates of…some sort of meat…it was more than a little overcooked, but considering the man's skills in cooking were next to nil, it could've been worse. Arthur grimaced a little, but ate some of it anyway; though it looked horrific, it tasted fine to him.

"Why the bloody #!*% do you insist on portions of food I can't eat…" he mumbled to himself.

"Cause, dude, you seriously need to eat more…I know you just got off that liquid diet crap, but honestly? You're a stick."

"I am not!"

Alfred just raised his eyebrows. Arthur murmured something about how he was going to kill Alfred when his arm was sufficiently back to normal and finished half of it before pushing it away. Alfred rolled his eyes; as much as he worried about Arthur, eh could be downright exasperating at times.

"Dude…"

"I don't want to get fat!"

"Like that's gonna happen anytime soon…" Alfred thought, glancing at Arthur's still bony wrists, but said nothing.

A little later on, Arthur and Alfred were sitting in Arthur's immaculate tea room, Arthur with a book and Alfred with "one of those blasted video games" as Arthur so fondly called them. A low curse came from Iggy, and Alfred looked up from fighting vampire to notice Arthur was having a hard time turning a page of his book. He put the game down and walked over.

"Iggy, ya need-"

"No!"

Alfred was taken aback. Arthur held the book closely to him.

"I can do this at least for myself." He said, almost venomously. Alfred held his palms open in surrender. Arthur glared back at him, until Alfred went back to his game. Even so, Alfred kept shooting furtive glances at Artie. What go him so worked up? Was his chest or legs hurting again? No, he gave him a pain killer no less than an hour ago. Alfred finally just shook off the strange occurrence.

At ten, Alfred heard Arthur snap his book shut, finished. Alfred saved his game. Arthur looked at his brother, and sighed.

"Can't I just sleep on the sofa…"

"Nah, dude! That is so freaking uncomfortable, you know…I've tried it!"  
>"…you…really? Why?"<p>

Alfred laughed.

"Long story. Anyway, come on…" Alfred walked to Arthur, and slowly picked him up from his chair. Arthur stiffened in Alfred's arms as his position changed, hurting his already battered legs.

"Sorry, bro."

Arthur shook his head in defiance and Alfred made his way up the twelve steps and a left to Arthur's room. Since both were in what they considered sleepwear, Alfred simply laid Arthur on the bed. Once his body made contact with the softer sheets, Arthur's pent up breath let out, and he relaxed. Alfred chuckled and turned out the light before hopping into the bed himself.

"You know you have your own room…" Arthur murmured a little sleepily as Alfred helped him pull the blankets up.

"Yeah."

"So then, why-"

"Cause someone needs to make sure you're alright in the middle of the night." Alfred admitted, and wrapped his arms gently, but protectively around his brother. Can't crush him this time, he told himself. Crushitude can't happen.

Arthur flinched a bit at the contact, but reassured himself that the slight pressure on his chest was not restraining what little movement he had, and settled down. Alfred chuckled to feel his bomber jacket on another person, but it made him feel that Arthur was even safer wrapped up in it. Without making a noise, he kept watch over Arthur until his brother's breathing evened out in the caress of sleep, before submitting himself.

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><p>Alfred was literally slapped awake by Arthur's flailing arms. The Brit was breathing heavily and his eyes were shut tight in a grimace of agony. Alfred instantly snapped to full wakeness as he rolled out of the way of Arthur's next blow. The Englishman was tossing violently back and forth in the bed, mouth open but now sound emerging. Alfred only jerked out of his surprised state when he saw Arthur reaching for his chest again…<p>

"Arthur!" Alfred grabbed his wrist just in time and wrenched it down to the bed. This just made Arthur struggle more. Alfred pushed on his other shoulder, trying to keep him flat so he wouldn't injure his wounds anymore.

"Arthur! Artie, wake up!"

Arthur's eyes opened, but they were wandering all over the room.

"I'm awake…I'm awake…"

Alfred shook Arthur as best he could.

" #!*% no, you aren't! Arthur, come on, man!"

"I'm awake! I'm – Oh, God…" Arthur's eyes were drawn to the ceiling, looking at something only visible to him. Arthur's eyes went wide with fear, and then he flinched violently struggling all the more. Alfred called out his name a few more times, but got no more response. Finally, he took his hand from Arthur's shoulders and slapped him hard across the face.

Arthur's head snapped to the side, and he finally woke with a terse exclamation.

His eyes searched around wildly, noticing he wasn't in London anymore; the bombs weren't erupting around him. He finally stared at Alfred, and Alfred removed his grip. Arthur began to relax, and something crossed his eyes…shame? Arthur turned on his side and buried his face in his pillow.

Alfred, after a few seconds, whispered, "Artie?"

He got no response. He tentatively touched Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Arthur savagely shrugged Alfred's hand away.

"But-"

"No!"

"I just wanted to help-"Alfred stuttered. Arthur's face emerged, a mix of anger and pain.

"Just get out! Get out of my room! GO!" With that last finally vehemous outburst, Alfred scurried out of the room in confusion. Arthur hit the pillow with his face again.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

...poor Iggy...eh, he'll survive...

Anyway! Thanks, oro-oro, for your continuing kind reviews. And yeah...getting your capital bombed cannot be exactly good...Arthur's such a closed up, tight-knit character that I love how he hates showing any sign of emotion or weakness...it makes him cute...and that's why it's easy to write angsty fics on him!

It's funny how I actually get his character more now that I've written so much crap on him...It's probably for the best though, considering I'm cosplaying as him at the next convention in my area...

...I even drink more tea...I don't know whether that's a good thing or bad...

Anywho, Hope you enjoyed it, and one more chapter to go! Reviews are lovely...

-Fang


	3. Road to Recovery

Hey there, Fang here.

Last chapter, folks. Though I am writing one that is based off of Pearl Harbor...That kinda goes along with this one...Well, whatever. This could go on forever.

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><p>Alfred knocked on the door to Arthur's room.<p>

"Iggy?"

He heard no answer, so Alfred turned the handle and walked into the silent room.

Arthur, to his astonishment, was sitting in the armchair facing the window five feet away from the bed. The man was calmly staring out the window, which gave a perfect view of London. Unfortunately, London was not so perfect right now.

"Artie…Here ya go."

Alfred walked to the side of the chair and put a cup of tea in the Brit's hands. Arthur didn't seem to notice, but he lifted the cup to his lips after a second and sipped.

"Where did you find this? I don't have any tea in my house." Arthur spoke quietly, not even looking at Alfred.

Alfred grinned despite this. "That package the nurse gave me. Guess she was right, thinking you would need it."

The ports were bombed…it must've been harder to come by."

"Your people were worried, I guess. They wanna help in anyway possible."

Arthur shut his eyes.

"I know…I know…" he looked at Alfred for the first time. "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't be, dude."

"No, I shouldn't have bloody yelled-"

"You were upset, man. Though I don't know exactly what…"

Arthur leaned back in his chair.

"I just feel so…useless…how I am now…"

"Dude, Artie, that isn't-"

"Look, just let me bloody explain!" he glared at his younger brother. "I hate this…being so useless that I have to rely on someone so heavily…! I can't stand it. I literally can only do such bloody small things…I only have an arm working!"

Arthur's fist clenched the teacup.

"I told you to get out…because I didn't want you to see me like this since the Revolution…so weak. So vulnerable. I'm supposed to be the one holding that German #!*% back…I'm supposed to be the strong one. I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. These dreams…it's like being back out there…in London. But this time, I can't run. They stopped when I left the hospital, but…"

Arthur sucked in a breath.

"But I can barely do anything. I'm a burden to you, Alfred; I don't even know why you're here."

"…There is one thing I've been wondering…how the #!*% did you get from the bed to the chair?"

Arthur looked incredulously at Alfred.

"What? That's what you say to all that?"

"No, seriously, how?"

Arthur took another sip of tea.

"Well…I braced myself on the headboard and the end table there…and walked a bit…"

"And you call that nothing?"

Arthur stopped mid-tea.

"Cause dude…that's pretty impressive. That nurse said you wouldn't be walking for a week or two, and it's only been a couple of days."

"I…well…"

Alfred pulled up the chair next to him and sat down, leaning closer to his brother.

"You think that you're useless? I've never heard such #!*% in my life. You can actually fight. You can actually hold off him! I'm neutral. I honestly can't do anything except make sure you're not dying on me. Yeah, right now, you need help moving and stuff, but what's the shame in that?"

"The shame is that I need it! I've never actually needed someone to help me!"

"Well, then, maybe you should learn to rely more on others, bro. It's ok to do it, too, no one thinks the worse of you for it."

"But-"

"But nothing. And you know what? I can see you both strong and weak, and contrary to your opinion, it's not gonna change what I think of you. You're my brother, Artie. Deal with it. You took care of me all those years ago when I was your colony."

Arthur stiffened as Alfred brought up a time that still pained him.

"Now I get to return the favor, kay?"

Alfred grinned widely at Arthur, and Arthur couldn't help but smile slightly back. The two nations sat like that in silence for a while, until the last drop of tea in Arthur's cup was gone.

"Bloody #!*% , no! I don't care if I can't walk without it, I'm not using that!"

"Aw, Come on, Artie!"

The Brit was sitting on his sofa, arms crossed at his chest, face twisted in defiance. Alfred was laughing again, a well made wooden cane with an elegant handle in his hands.

"Why not?" Alfred asked, shoving it into Arthur's hands anyway and pushing him up to a stand, making Arthur forced to lean on the offending piece of wood.

"Canes are for old men! I'm not old, #!*% !"

"Aw, Iggy, You know that's not true! You had plenty of canes in your older days, and you were perfectly fine then!"

Despite his complaints, the Brit was already walking around with it, and much to Alfred's glee, was only leaning on it a little bit.

"And besides…if you reaaaaallly wanna be a gentleman…you gotta use that. It makes you look sophisticated."

Arthur glared at his brother, but snarled in acquiesce. Alfred opened the door for his brother, and watched him take the front steps a little slower than usual, but without any major mishaps. Arthur was fine, he told himself. Now Alfred just needed to get his own #!*% into the war, and he could watch over him better when Arthur finally decided to join his troops. After all, he was only doing what little brothers are supposed to do.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Hey, oro-oro! Lol, I'm glad you picked up on that one little wheelchair thing, I thought it was worth putting in. Poor Arthur...he likes being independent of others...Eh, I wouldn't want him to change, he's too tsundere to do so. Thanks for sticking with me to the end!

Anywho...The cane...ah, the cane...I want to do more with the cane...I can just see Arthur with a cane, a long coat and a top hat...making him look even more gentlemanly...hee hee that's so awesome.

Well, thanks to all you, this is it! No more epilogue...Read more of my stuff! Thanks!

-Fang


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